The Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge for this week:
I am self destructive, I am a safety hazard to my mental self. I want to scream, I want to shout, but I can’t because my voice is gone. It’s sunken deep into my throat and echoing through my spine. I can’t seem to talk, or express the way I feel to anyone, because I am all alone. Nobody understands the torturous state of mind I am in. The crazy tug-of-war going on inside my brain. My family says I’m just being moody. That I’m a regular teenager who’s is just being overly-dramatic, and too emotional over little worries. But would a regular teen cry themselves to sleep every night? Would a normal girl be sobbing in the shower for hours and digging her nails far into her skin, just to feel something other than the torment in her head? Would any “normal” person not be able to finish any of their work, leave it all, and instead just lie down and hope to die? I’m scared, and all alone. I have no friends whom I talk to. I have no family who understands. Everybody leaves me behind, or jokes about my very real issues. Don’t they know that every word and every “joke” is a knife in my heart, and a tear in my smile? Don’t they know that the minute everyone leaves the house, I break down and curl into a ball telling myself the whole time “I’ll never be good enough”, or “I just can’t push through anymore”? When everyone returns from their lives, which don’t include me, I pretend to have fallen asleep, and just plaster on a smile and let out a forced giggle when they “wake me up”. Though they judge and torment me even for this. I want to tell them, I really do, but every time I come close, they start with the bombarding of my flaws, and all the things I can’t do right. I can’t finish school. I can’t dance good enough. I gave up. I shouldn’t be eating that at this hour. I should’ve done this, I should’ve done that. Why didn’t I finish my work? Why am I so lazy? If only they knew, I’m not lazy and I try so hard. I’m over a year behind, but I can’t seem to dig myself out of this grave by myself. I need help. I need someone to look down and realize that I’m not a completed puzzle, but a jumbled mess on the floor waiting to be swept away under the carpet.
Why can’t anyone see how broken I am? Why won’t anybody help me before the dirt covers my face and I am gone and forgotten? Please….
My craving are dark, my cravings scare me.
They originate somewhere deep within me.
I lust for love, I crave affection.
I beg for connection, but only in my minds darkest section.
Cravings for perfection, cravings for attention.
Cravings to be normal, craving for no morals.
Missing the innocence of my younger thoughts,
though knowing innocence was never part of the plot.
Wanting freedom, growing up in a cage,
a cage I built to protect myself from the rage.
Rage of my parents, rage of my deep realizations.
Desires for a better life, a life in which your words are not a knife,
burrowing deep into my soul and carving out my depression and my sorrow.
I crave for compliments and approval, for you to love me without being brutal.
My cravings are darker than anyone knows.
Only you know what goes on down below.
Because you are me and I am you,
And we stick together through sunshine and blizzard snow.
There is nothing much to know about me except that I am a regular teenager from the States with occasional crazy thoughts swimming through my brain. This is a place to escape.
A place to write down all my deepest feelings and distant ideas and darkest fears. Responses and sharing is always encouraged.
So take my hand dear, and jump with me//no fear.